"What did you say your name was?" he asked as he knelt in front of her, grabbing her thighs with his strong hands.
"Brittany," she looked up at him, flicking her fake eyelashes.
"Of course it is," he said with a wry smile. "If I had a dollar for every girl called Brittany…. So, Brittany, I want you to do everything I say. Ok?"
"Absolutely," she purred. "I love doing what I'm told."
"So you like being a good girl eh?"
"More than anything. I'm here to please."
He liked her already. She had the kind of attitude that he needed in a girl.
"Ok Brittany. I want you to turn over on your hands and knees."
She obliged and faced the wall. What she didn't realize was that he had a blindfold beside the bed. He lowered it over her eyes gently.
"Oooh. I didn't realize you wanted to be so kinky," she giggled.
"You have no idea how kinky I can be."
Pulling at her hands, he yanked her arms behind her. She let out a yelp of shock but didn't seem to mind. She laughed and shrieked as he tied her hands behind her back.
"Hey!" she pretended to struggle. "If you get any rougher I'll have to scream."
"Oh... Baby, you can scream all you like," he leaned forward and whispered in her ear. "No one will come to save you."
She went silent. He could feel goose bumps form on her skin, covering her ass and thighs as all the tiny hairs on her body stood to attention.
"Hey," he stroked her back. "Relax, I'm only joking."
She laughed again but nervously.
"So are you ready to get started?"
She nodded.
"Yes."
"Yes, what?"
She thought for a second.
"Yes, master?"
"Well done!" he patted her on the head. "You are a good girl. Now do you wanna know what game we're going to play now?"
She shook her head, her fake eyelashes making scraping noises against the blindfold.
"We're going to play a game called I'm going to fuck you but you're not allowed to have an orgasm until I tell you."
“I think I like the sound of this game,” she pushed her ass up in the air.
Meanwhile, Batista was holding his length in his hand, stroking it up and down as he felt himself become harder and harder with his tip throbbing and purple. He touched the head of his penis to her lips and felt her moistness. She was ready to be taken, he was sure of it.
Pushing himself inside of her, he listened to her moan. Then he thrust a little further. She groaned and fell forward, her head pressing into the bed. He stroked the back of her head, patting her like the little pet he wanted her to be.
“You’re doing really well,” he whispered. “Now do you think you can take all of me inside of you?” he gripped her by the hair and pulled her hair back.
“Aw yeah,” she laughed as she felt her scalp sting. “But don’t be too rough.”
“I’ll try my best.”
Pushing his entire length inside of her, he felt her young body envelop him with ecstasy and he bit his lip. The pleasure was exquisite as the ripe young girl at the end of his cock writhed and screamed as he entered it. Then he began to feel her thighs begin to quiver.
“What did I tell you? You’re not allowed to come unless I let you.”
“Oh please!” she begged. “You’re so big and I’m so close!”
“No!” he yelled. “Learn how to control yourself.”
She screamed at the top of her lungs, thrashed back and forth as she tried to make her body do what it was told but she couldn’t. A riptide of pleasure soared through her and she came hard, squirting over his body. He pulled out angry and flipped her onto her back, ripping off her blindfold.
“You’ve been a bad girl,” he sneered. “Do you know what I do to bad girls?”
She shook her head.
“I fuck them so hard they can’t walk out of here straight.”
She liked the sound of that and as she tried to regain her breath, she spread her legs wide.
“You’ll have to punish me. Teach me a lesson.”
He pinned her arms to the bed and entered her in one swift movement. Moving as fast as his pelvis would allow, he pummeled into her until the bed creaked and her screams were so loud he had to place a hand over her mouth. Then she came again, squirting for the second time and shuddering violently as her eyes rolled back in her head.
“Fuck!” her muffled cries came out from beneath his hand.
He loved the feeling of her beneath his strong body as she convulsed and shook with the pleasure he was giving her. For as long as she’d work, she’d never have a customer as good as him and she’d remember him for the rest of her life. As he watched her face twist with both pain and pleasure, he felt his testicles begin to ache and tingle as they prepared themselves to be emptied. Holding her hands up over her head, he ejaculated inside her, his cock throbbing deep up against her cervix. Then he collapsed on top of her breasts, his mouth gasping for air as her hard implants pressed into his cheek.
“Jesus, fucking Christ,” he sucked in air as he spoke.
“You like that baby?”
“I fucking loved it,” he rested up on his elbows and kissed her on the cheek. “You’re perfect.”
Suddenly, he sprang up and began gathering her clothes, throwing them at her. Reaching into his pants pocket, he pulled out a wad of cash and pulled off an arbitrary amount before throwing the bills on the bed.
“Thanks for the good time,” he smiled and walked into the bathroom to turn on the shower.
She climbed off the bed and gathered the money in her hands before she picked up her clothes.
“So is that it then?” she asked as she leaned in the bathroom doorway.
“I’d say so,” he turned his back to her as he stood below the steaming water.
She’d had ruder customers but there was something about this guy she was reluctant to say goodbye too.
“So you think you’ll see me another time? I can book you in for the weekend? I might even cancel one of my other clients,” she said in practiced cutesy voice.
“No, that won’t be necessary,” he said. “I’ll have someone else then.”
“Oh,” she frowned and walked away as a slight stinging sensation snapped between her legs. “And there’s me thinking we had something good going on. You know if we meet again I’ll do anything you say. Anything….” she licked her lips.
He didn’t respond.
“I mean anything… I can even come to your house and stay for as long as you want.”
“You don’t wanna do that,” he finally turned to face her. “You wouldn’t like it there.”
Chapter Ten
Cassie was driving back to the hospital with her notepad opened on the passenger seat. Whenever she arrived at a red stoplight, she’d look over her notes and wonder if it was all true. She desperately wanted it to be. There was a genuine fear and horror in Latrece’s eyes, she could see it, could almost feel the terror as the older woman recounted her story. But still… John Batista. There was no way he could be a serial killer. It was a crazy thought. However, she did not doubt that the woman had the worst time of her life. Maybe it was a matter of mistaken identity, somebody posing as the billionaire or a lucky lookalike. She didn’t know but she’d try to get some more information out of the mysterious man in the hospital. As soon as they’d left Lactrece’s trailer they’d received a call from the station. He called and asked for her specifically and said he wouldn’t talk to anyone else. As she saw the hospital in the distance, the large brutalist structure taking over the horizon, she felt her heart beat hard with the prospect of hearing his story. It had certainly been an eventful day. But she was angry with Matt. She could tell he didn’t believe a single word he’d heard and he’d cut off Latrece before she could tell them anymore. God, that man drives me nuts, she thought as she drove. At least he’s back at the station so I can work in peace.
As she s
trode into the intensive care unit she tried to look for the doctor but he was nowhere to be seen. However, a nurse at the desk saw her right away and began gesticulating wildly for her to approach, waving her chubby arms as her outdated, blonde perm bounced up and down.
“Detective?” she looked a little too pleased to see her. “I’m so glad you’re here.”
“Really? Most people try and run away from me.”
“Your man in there,” she pointed into the room. “He’s erm… how do I put it, gone freakin’ crazy.”
“Is that a medical term?”
The nurse glanced away.
“I don’t mean to sound insensitive but he’s telling wild stories, tells ‘em to anyone who’ll listen.”
“Uhuh,” Cassie took a step to the side to make it obvious she was eager to see for herself.
“I mean it detective. Something’s not right with him. The things he’s saying,” the nurse pointed her finger to her temple. “It’s not right.”
“Well, it’s up to me to determine that for myself,” she walked away.
As she approached his room she could see him through the window. He was sat on the edge of the bed with his eyes wide and staring. She could hear him already, speaking a hundred miles an hour as he regaled a nurse with his story. She appeared to be ignoring him, focusing on checking his blood pressure instead. She looked relieved when Cassie entered the room.
“You must be detective Gibson,” she said. “We’ve heard all about how you were coming.”
“Oh…”
Cassie looked at the man. A wide smile spread across his face, his broken teeth lined up like a row of condemned houses. It was like she was staring at a different person. He looked lucid, awake, alive.
“Ok, I’ll take it from here,” she said.
The nurse nodded and stepped out of the room.
“Thank you!” Anthony grabbed her hands. “Thank you for coming back.”
“It’s my job to be here,” she said with a harshness she didn’t intend. “I mean… I want to be here. I understand you’re ready to talk to me about what happened?”
“I’ll tell you everything but you’re not gonna believe me. Nobody believes an ex-con like me.”
“Hey, that’s not true,” she soothed. “Anybody can be a victim, it’s not a privilege awarded to those with no previous history.”
That seemed to put him at ease and he lowered his head and sighed.
“Thanks, I knew you’d understand.
Chapter Eleven
The black limousine edged its way around the mountain top. To a novice driver it would seem like a treacherous road but Bertie, Batista’s personal valet, was used to it. He looked in the rearview mirror and squinted as he tried to focus far into the distance. Sat at the back of the limousine was the billionaire with a scotch in one hand and his phone in the other.
Ahead of him stood the proud and erect Batista residence. It was a modern structure but was designed to be a throwback to a more decadent and colonial time when turrets decorated every corner and doors were three times the size they were meant to be. Opulent gardens stretched out across the landscape and as Bertie began his slow ascent up the mile long driveway, a little flurry of snow began to fall on the pine trees like powdered sugar.
Behind, he could hear Batista speak into his phone but etiquette prevented him from listening to what he was saying. He pulled the car to the front steps of the house and stepped out with an umbrella in his hand. Opening the rear door, he let Batista step out before escorting him through the freezing weather and inside the house.
“Thank you, Bertie,” the billionaire smiled and gave him a pat on the back before resuming his phone conversation.
Once inside, Batista walked the three flights of stairs to his home office. With large walls decorated with glistening gold leaf and marble pillars holding up the high ceilings, it resembled more of a Roman bath than an office but that was the look he was going for. He wanted to feel like a king during every moment of his day.
“Ok thank you,” he said into his phone. “I want you to cancel all my meetings for tomorrow and that dinner tonight, tell him I can’t make it. I have plans…”
He hung up and placed his phone in the top drawer of his desk. Then he pulled out a leather bound journal and opened it flat in front of him. He traced his finger down the page.
Young brunette in red blouse, 425jk serum, death immediate.
Older male (50s?), serum 92xc, approx. twenty mins until death.
Biker with dragon tattoo, 12kzx serum, ineffective, escaped.
He shook his head as he read the last line. Jesus that was the second time this had happened. He felt the anger rise within him and he wanted to punch the desk but losing his cool was not his style. Yet, the last time this happened the truth almost came out. Almost... He had to pay off the police chief and quash any rumors to see that the little meth head with the frazzled blonde hair was never believed. His biggest mistake was not having her murdered to silence her forever. Still, he was sure she wouldn’t dare utter another word about him again.
But the guy he’d known as the biker with the dragon tattoo… He was harder work than he’d realized but at least he learned something new, strong men with muscles were not a likely candidate for the serum. He made a note of that before slamming the journal shut. It was time to see how his other subjects were getting on.
The laboratory was on the basement level of the house. Taking the elevator down and walking the long passageway beneath the building took him there. Then there was one final hurdle; the large steel door that was both password protected and required a scan of his retina.
As soon as the door opened he could smell it, death, decay and the sterile stench of medicine. The smell was something he’d had to get used to. He remembered the first time he killed a man and he thought the scent of decomposition would never leave his clothes, but then it became a normal part of his day. Now, he barely winced as he stepped into the lab that in his mind was a haven of scientific research, but in reality was little more than a mad man’s squalid fantasy come into fruition through endless supplies of money.
He wasn’t sure when the fascination began although he could guess. A single photo in a history book gifted to him one Christmas showed the face of a man mid execution, the draft from the gunshot blowing his hair as the bullet entered his head. Batista was in awe of it, not because of its gory detail but because it was at a pinnacle, almost sacred and holy part of someone’s existence. It was the exact moment life was exiting the body, the precise second the human soul was escaping to another world. He’d scanned his eyes over the photo for hours as he analyzed every inch of the man’s face; the way his eyes appeared glassy, the shock across his features and the way his lips were upturned in a frightful grimace.
That was when it all started, when his fascination with death became real. As he grew older, he was obsessed with the idea of grasping death in a tangible manner, of seeing it occur and touching it with his bare hands. He often killed rabbit and rats, small dogs and birds just to see the moment when their eyes turned dull but of course, he was still not satisfied.
Now, as a filthy rich adult, he had all the time and money in the world to indulge his curiosity. Below his house he’d had the most elaborate laboratory created. Of course, the builders could know anything about the finalities of constructions so they were brought into the house in separate teams, only completing small areas at a time so they could never see the full picture of their creations. It took two years to build, but when it was finished, Batista couldn’t shake the feeling of excitement. It still lingered with him today every time he entered it. It was the feeling of intense, sinful curiosity, of unwavering devotion to the macabre. It was the feeling of being deliciously deadly.
As he looked at his subjects, chained up against the walls, he remembered a time when he was more meticulous and less messy. When he first started bringing victims home, poor degenerate souls he’d plucked from the streets, he’d
place them in tidy cubicles. Now, as he had become more careless and eager to test on them, he had merely placed them where he felt like it, letting them cling to life against the bloody walls.
A young girl lay at his feet. He wasn’t sure if she was breathing. Bending down to place two fingers to her throat, he sensed a faint pulse. It would seem the serum he had given her was taking its time working its way through her blood stream. Looking up at the other victims who were chained to the walls, he smiled and ran a hand through his hair. It was time to do his rounds.
The Billionaire's Trap Page 5